


Reconstruction Site

by hatrickane (dandelionwhiskey)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, disabled Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/hatrickane
Summary: Before going into cryo again, Bucky has some requests.





	Reconstruction Site

“How does it feel?”

Steve is waving his hand in the empty space where Bucky’s arm used to be. He gives Steve an unimpressed look and slaps his hand away.

“It doesn’t.”

Steve returns the flat look and squeezes Bucky’s good shoulder. “The thanks I get for trying to check in on you.”

Bucky gives Steve a half smile and pushes his arm away. “Used to be I was the one checking in on you.”

The way Steve’s eyebrows pinch together is _not_ the desired response. Concern fills up his features, even as he pulls away to cross his arms. His white t-shirt protests the pull, tight along his biceps and chest. Bucky maintains eye contact.

“I’d say we still look out for each other pretty good.”

Steve Rogers almost always tells the truth, Bucky remembers, unless he’s trying to protect someone’s feelings. Back in the day, Bucky used to string that up as a flaw. They were Stevie’s little white lies, always getting him into more trouble than he should have been. But he isn’t lying now - Bucky’s pretty sure they made some juvenile honesty promise to each other when they were kids. 

Granted, that had been before Bucky tried to shove his fist through Steve’s face.

He twitches. Not Bucky. But, still.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Steve asks.

“Not tip-top,” Bucky admits. His eyes dart briefly to his shoulder. “I feel a helluva lot better now that it’s gone, though.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and slides his hands into his pockets. “Same here, pal.”

Bucky grins. “Not so scary now, huh?”

“You never scared me,” Steve says. Stubborn.

Bucky wishes he could say the same back to him, even if it would be one of those little white lies. Instead, he hops off of the medical table and pokes Steve in the chest.

“Got a few hours before T’Challa is ready to lock me up again,” Bucky says. “What say we walk around?”

Steve’s jaw flexes slightly, like he’s biting back a waterfall of words, but Bucky brushes past him before he has the chance to let the dam break. Bucky has a mouthful of his own confessions and requests that he firmly swallows down as Steve turns to follow him.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you when you’re in there,” Steve promises. They’re walking down the hallway, getting cautious, but suspicious looks from the Wakandan medical personnel. Bucky wants to go outside.

“I know,” he says simply.

The Wakandan weather is wet and warm, the mist low and just barely brushing the tops of the lush, green trees. Bucky breathes in the soupy air and lets it moisten his lungs, closing his eyes against the heat in the air.

It’s been a long time since he was able to just stand outside and just listen to the birds alone.

He can hear Steve next to him, though, shuffling with discomfort and breathing unevenly. Bucky jostles him.

“Shh.” He peeks open one eye to see Steve looking back at him, cheeks pink from the heat. “Relax, Steve.”

“How’m I supposed to relax, Buck? I just got you back.”

Bucky sighs. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation. “I’m not back,” he says. “Not really.”

Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer. His fists are clenched. “I’m just not keen on the idea of freezing you again. I don’t-”

“You don’t have a say,” Bucky says. “This one’s all about me, and I’m not going to hurt anyone else.”

Steve mumbles something that Bucky has the decency to pretend not to hear.

“I’ll be back in no time.”

“It'll feel like no time to _you_ ,” Steve pouts.

“C’mon, Steve.” Bucky turns to face him now, his outdoors adventure already ruined by Steve spitting his emotions all over it. “You’re well-practiced at mourning me.”

Steve glares at him. “Say that again and I’ll knock your lights out.”

A laugh bubbles out of Bucky’s chest and he finds himself moving closer to Steve, sliding his hand up from the crook of his elbow to his shoulder. His t-shirt is soft, like it’s had a few too many washes, and Bucky resists the urge to pick at one of the loose threads on his collar.

“It’s all still in me,” Bucky says. “You gotta give me a chance, here. Then it’ll be you and me, second chance at saving the world, yeah?”

“If there’s a world for you to come back to,” Steve mutters. Bucky digs his fingers into Steve’s shoulder, his thumb right there along the side of his throat.

“You just stay alive,” he says, “and I’ll have something to come back to.”

Steve abruptly crushes him into a hug, his big hero arms wrapping right around Bucky’s shoulders and yanking him against Steve’s chest. Bucky barely has the chance to wind his arm around Steve’s waist in a vain attempt to return it, but Steve hardly seems to notice.

His cheek is smushed into Bucky’s temple, and Bucky remembers being able to fold Steve’s whole body against his when they were kids. He remembers their first hug after Steve changed, back in the war, and wonders why it felt so different then.

“I’m not talking about this anymore,” Bucky says. He can feel his own breath heating the skin of Steve’s neck.

“Deal.” Steve releases his death grip but only lets Bucky back up a few inches. He’s got his patent all-teeth grin on, eyes all crinkled at the side like he means it. Bucky wants to smooth them out with his thumb. “What else do you want to do before the big sleep?”

“Let’s go to that waterfall,” Bucky says, “the one we saw coming in.”

They walk, shielded from the sun by the heavy forest canopy. Steve keeps a respectable distance, but his eyes burn a hole in the back of Bucky’s head. This needs to change.

“Remember when we went to Ithaca?”

Steve is suddenly right next to Bucky, a small smile on his face. “Six hour ride and you flirted with every girl on the train.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I was trying to find you a sweetheart, Steve,” he says. It’s only a little lie, a half-truth. Steve catches him in it, nods sardonically.

“We went to Buttermilk Falls,” Steve says, decidedly changing the subject. “I wanted to go behind it but you wouldn’t let me.”

Bucky frowns. “The rocks were slippery.”

“There were kids back there, Buck,” Steve says.

“I can’t believe you’re still sore about that.” Bucky kicks up some dirt.

“Nah,” Steve dismisses. “You took me all the way out there. Bought me ice cream. You spent all your savings on that trip.”

Bucky shrugs a bashful shoulder.

“It was right after the army turned me away, the first time,” Steve muses.

“Yeah, well, couldn’t have you moping around the apartment.”

He can hear the roar of the waterfall thundering in the distance. The air has grown cooler around them, pleasantly humid, and Bucky allows himself a shiver. If Steve notices, he doesn’t say anything. They push past a clearing and it’s there, towering and magnificent, mist drifting up from where the water churns at the base.

“Almost smells like the ocean, doesn’t it,” Steve says, and Bucky doesn’t agree. It’s cleaner, and Bucky wishes he could drink up its purity.

They walk up to the riverbank, where smooth rocks litter the dark, gritty sand. Steve picks one up, rubs his thumb against its surface, then chucks it into the water.

“The water’s too fast to skip rocks,” Bucky says. Steve shrugs.

“I know. I just wanted to throw one in.”

Bucky kneels down and picks up an oblong rock. It’s small and flat in his palm, certainly one he would have picked to skip across a lake or add to Steve’s collection. He squeezes it for a moment before whipping it into the river. The waterfall drowns out the sound of it breaking the surface.

“Attaboy,” Steve says mirthfully.

“Remember that girl at the falls, the blonde one?”

Steve purses his lips. “Margaret.”

Bucky nods. “She was there with her sister, but I stole her away. You went off to the bathroom and we necked in the woods for awhile.” His mouth twitches up at the memory.

“I know,” Steve says. “Your collar had lipstick on it when I came back.”

“Thought I got away with it.” Bucky smirks. “Shoulda known better, huh?”

“I got you pegged,” Steve says.

Bucky starts to stroll closer to the base of the waterfall. “I haven’t had a kiss since World War 2. Some USO girl.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. He’s probably thinking about his kiss with Sharon Carter, just a few days earlier, while Bucky and Sam sat in the car and observed. The image of it is logged in the soldier’s memory. Bucky wonders, sometimes, if he can lose it along with the trigger words.

There’s a rocky path behind the waterfall, slick with water, but wide. A long patch of damp riverbed leads up to it, packed down by countless footprints over time. Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve.

“What, you’re going to let me go this time?”

“You’re Captain America.” Bucky nudges him toward the waterfall. “You’ll catch me if I fall, right?”

Bucky’s balance is off without the arm, but he can walk in a straight line, at least.

Steve still keeps his hand at Bucky’s lower back, though. Keeps him steady.

There’s a shallow cave behind the waterfall, just enough that they can lean back against the rocks without getting soaked. The echo of the water is loud, but not deafening, and it’s dimmer back here with the sun filtering in through the sheet of water. It feels solitary, peaceful, and Steve’s shoulder is warm against his.

“Is it everything you thought it would be?” Bucky asks.

Steve peers over at him for a moment. “Almost,” he says. Bucky is unimpressed.

“C’mon, you don’t like it?”

“I like it fine,” Steve concedes. “It’s pretty, Buck.”

But Steve isn’t even looking at it, he’s just looking at Bucky. It would be annoying if it weren’t so damn endearing. Bucky turns away, though, stares at the crush of water in front of them. The rhythm of it draws him in, seduces his eyes closed and wraps him up in a momentary comfort.

“I’m going to remember this,” Bucky decides aloud. “No matter what happens when I’m in cryo-”

“-I thought you didn’t want to talk about that-”

“Shut up, I’m tryin’ to be friendly here.”

Steve smirks and lets his knuckles knock right up against Bucky’s. There’s a moment there where Bucky is seventeen again, curling his fingers around Steve’s in the kitchen while he danced ridiculously to some jazz on the radio. Steve was a klutz, two left feet, but he laughed when Bucky dipped him low.

“Knock it off, Buck,” little Steve had said. “You’re a whack.”

“What, a guy can’t teach his sweetheart to dance?”

“Stop trying to chisel me,” he’d admonished. “You’re not getting the shower first tonight.”

The memory hits him so hard that Bucky’s breath hitches, eyes fluttering open again. Steve is still staring right at him, brows knit together, and Bucky just laughs quietly.

“You ever learn how to dance, Rogers?”

“You know I didn’t,” Steve says petulantly.

“I’ll teach you when I get out.” Bucky clicks his tongue at Steve. “It ain’t right that you don’t know.”

Bucky hears the slang slip from his mouth, all natural and familiar. He can almost smell the dust in their old apartment, hear the train rattling the windows as it passed by. He looks back at Steve and his chest tightens, his veins thickening as his blood flow picks up.

It’s something like fear, but a little different.

“You’ll keep an eye on me, right? When I’m-”

“I already said I would,” Steve says.

Bucky shifts toward him. “I might not wake up.”

“Shut up, Bucky,” Steve snaps.

“Listen to me. I might not, right?”

Steve watches him warily, jaw clenching and unclenching. He wants to argue, it’s clear, but he’s holding back for Bucky’s sake. It makes his palms sweat.

“I don’t want my last kiss to be some USO girl,” Bucky says. The words seem to hang in the mist between them, and Bucky wants to brush them away, but his pinky is still resting up against Steve’s and he can’t move it away.

“It won’t be,” Steve says firmly. “You’ll be fine.”

“Only one way to be sure, though, huh?” Bucky says. He’s pushing too far. The confusion in Steve’s expression is melting, fading into something more fearful, something desperate. “Don’t make me say please.”

“Buck,” Steve said, his voice breaking on the name. He clears his throat and shakes his head slightly, a very quiet smile on his lips. “You never have to beg me for anything, you know that.”

“Well, that ain’t true,” Bucky grumbles. “Used to have to get down on my knees and pray just to get you to put your dirty laundry in the sack-”

Steve’s lips are on his and they’re cool from the air around them. His hands fall on Bucky’s hips, all polite and tentative, his mouth moving minutely. It’s chaste, and sweet, and won’t do at all. Bucky puts his good arm around Steve’s neck, fingers sliding into Steve’s hair where it’s starting to get long at the back, and breaks the kiss.

He doesn’t move back. Steve blinks at him.

“That all you got?” Bucky says. “Gimmie something to remember.”

Steve pushes him until his back is up against the cave wall and dives in a second time, pressing in harder, cupping Bucky’s cheeks with his hands. He holds him still and slips his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, taking a stubborn lead that makes Bucky’s stomach turn molten.

He’s never had a kiss like this before. There’s a longing, fire, and Steve’s mouth is the only way to soothe it. Somehow he gets a hand in Bucky’s hair, combing through it with his fingers, and it makes Bucky shiver all the way down to his toes.

Steve kisses insistently, like there’s always something more he can be doing to make Bucky’s heart pound harder. He touches Bucky’s chest, a thumb resting right over his nipple, while Bucky presses his blunt nails into the back of Steve’s neck and tries to keep up.

He wonders how long Steve has wanted this. It has to be awhile, judging by the sweet noises of relief he’s making each time Bucky pecks his lips, but he never let on. Never said a word. Bucky would be impressed, if he weren’t so familiar with the feeling.

They part for a moment, breath heavy, and Steve’s unfocused eyes find Bucky’s.

“I, um,” he starts. His hips are so close to Bucky’s, moments away from pushing forward. Instead, though, he puts his hand on Bucky’s stomach, thumb right over the button of his pants. “Wouldn’t be right of me to be a tease, huh?”

Bucky’s vision goes blurry. “No sir,” he says. “That wouldn’t be fair at all.”

Steve flicks open the button to Bucky’s pants and leans in to ghost his lips over the shell of his ear, just a slight drag of teeth on the lobe. “I won’t do that to you.”

Bucky shakes his head and squeezes Steve’s neck gently, pulling him forward. “I know, Steve, I know, baby. You always treat me right, don’t you?”

He gets a noncommittal hum in return, probably a mild protest against the pet name, but it doesn’t stop Steve from sliding his hand lower. He cups Bucky’s dick through his underwear and thumbs at the head of it until Bucky’s hips twitch.

Bucky isn’t fully hard, but the way Steve is just watching the place where his hand disappears into Bucky’s pants, eyes half-lidded, is enough to get him there quick. He wonders if he’s still locked up somewhere and this is his hallucination; Steve’s hands are on him in the way he’d never allowed himself to think about.

The overwhelming urge to get his mouth back on Steve’s swells up, and he clutches at his t-shirt and tugs at it. “C’mon. Gimmie some sugar.”

Steve rolls his eyes but complies, kissing Bucky again while he palms his dick through the thin fabric of his underwear. He rubs two fingers right along the tip and Bucky can feel how it’s damp there already. Steve probably notices, too, because he closes his teeth around Bucky’s lower lip softly and starts to tug his pants down.

The waterfall swallows the noise that Bucky makes when Steve strokes him firmly, root to tip, with all the confidence that should be reserved for a much more experienced man. He starts a consistent rhythm, kissing the hell out of Bucky and responding to every move he makes.

“Feel okay?” Steve asks, pressing a kiss into the side of Bucky’s mouth.

“Hell yes,” Bucky pants, “yes. Your hands are so good, Steve.”

Each time Steve reaches the tip he lets his thumb swipe over it, the pad of his finger dragging over the sensitive skin, and Bucky tries not to make a noise.

“I thought about this so much,” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s ear. “Killed me to not be able to touch you.”

The ache in Bucky’s chest tightens even further. The thought of Steve pining for him, wanting to reach out to him and holding back, it’s unbearable to think about. Bucky tucks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes him in, kissing the damp skin there gently.

“When I get out, I’m never going to stop touching you,” he says. Steve groans and squeezes Bucky’s dick, stroking him firm and unrelenting.

As the heat starts to build up in Bucky’s spine, it occurs to him that he’s not touching Steve nearly enough. He grabs Steve’s wrist, stilling him, and kisses him to soothe the surprised look off of his face.

“Don’t worry,” he says, like he’s said a million times before.

Unzipping Steve’s pants proves difficult one-handed, but Steve gets the hint and helps him out until he’s able to pull Steve’s erection from the confines. Once Bucky starts to touch him, Steve crowds forward and gets his hand back on Bucky’s cock so they can stroke each other together.

Their kisses go messy, uncoordinated, but Bucky just wants to be close. They’re probably a sight; pants around their ankles, all mussed hair and heaving chests, pawing desperately at each other. Bucky can’t find it within himself to care. This is the man who never stopped saving him from the day they met on the playground.

Bucky starts to roll his hips into Steve’s grip, fucking the circle of his fingers, and Steve actually lets him do it for a moment before he shakes his head.

“Hell, Bucky,” he breathes, shoving him back up against the cave wall and pushing their hips together. He starts thrusting forward so their dicks slide up against each other, trapped between their stomachs, and Bucky goes dizzy.

“Oh, that’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky says right into Steve’s mouth, “rub off on me, just like that.”

Steve’s hips move like there’s music playing. He’s grinding and thrusting and rubbing up against Bucky and it’s too hot, too electric, and Bucky isn’t sure if he can handle it. Steve grabs one of Bucky’s knees and hikes it up so he has a better angle to grind them together. Bucky moans brokenly at the exposure, clinging to Steve with his good hand. His ankles are still all tangled in his pants, otherwise he’s pretty sure both of his legs would be wrapped around Steve’s hips.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Bucky says, knuckling along Steve’s jawline. “Just like this.”

Steve lets out a low rumble that almost sounds like a growl and picks up his pace. His tongue is right there in Bucky’s mouth and the waterfall is inexplicably louder, ringing in Bucky’s ears, and he wants to tell Steve everything he’d been hiding.

“You’re doing me so good,” Bucky says. It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth. “You gonna do this again, Steve? When I get out?”

“Gonna do even more,” Steve says. “Gonna do _everything.”_

Bucky comes like that. Steve’s dick is a hot line pressed between them, wet and twitching while Bucky slicks them both up. Steve drops Bucky’s knee so he can regain his balance, but his legs are too jelly to stand up on his own anyway. He feels like he’s been electrocuted, static buzzing all over his skin, head pounding with adrenaline.

“Come on, Stevie, go ahead. Give it to me,” he says. He kisses Steve’s neck. He could probably suck a mark right there and it would be gone in just a few hours. The thought makes him ache. 

But Steve drives those feelings away when he starts to rub off on Bucky again, panting right in his ear. It doesn’t take him long at all with Bucky murmuring encouragements to him and grabbing his ass. He kneads the flesh there and keeps Steve close and soon he’s shooting off between them, stickying Bucky up even further.

They stand there for a moment, just breathing, the sheet of water shielding them from the outside world.

Steve smiles at him, a smile that spans decades. It’s the smile in the kitchen, or with a split lip in a back alley, over undrinkable beer on leave in Germany, in the dark in a pup tent with distant gunfire, and even right now, an hour before Bucky has to go away again. He kisses that smile.

Bucky cleans up in the riverbank while Steve stands close by looking sheepish, his ears pink and his grin lazy. It’s a good look.

“It’s time to go back in.”

Steve nods sullenly and Bucky can’t help but laugh. He punches Steve lightly in the chest. “Before you know it,” he reminds him.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Steve says, “I’ll stay here.”

That’s one of Stevie’s white lies, Bucky knows. He’s got duties, a world to protect, and all that. But he nods, accepting those terms, false as they may be. Steve needs him to accept it.  

“You’d better.”

“I’ll read to you,” Steve offers.

“I won’t be able to hear you,” Bucky says skeptically.

Steve smirks. “You’ve always been able to hear me.”

He’s telling the truth. Even there, over the the deafening roar of the waterfall behind them, Bucky can hear everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on [tumblr!](http://buttercupbarnes.tumblr.com)


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